


Tales of Four Nations

by LilyAmelia



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyAmelia/pseuds/LilyAmelia
Summary: Collections of one-shots from the ATLA and LoK universes.For Season 4 of the Pro-Bending Circuit on ff.net





	1. The Art of Brewing

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> Write a story about a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. Choose one of the following emotions to be included: fear, happiness, hope, regret, sadness. Minimum of 300 words  
> Emotion chosen: happiness

Iroh has faced more than his fair share of challenges throughout his reasonably long life thus far. He’s been brother to a power-hungry prince itching to overthrow him as heir to the Crown, has led armies out to war. He’s lost countless soldiers, friends, a _son,_ to a cause he now knows was hollow and perfidious. He’s followed his banished nephew out to sea in what was considered a hopeless quest for the Avatar. 

Not many of these things, however, have been as challenging as teaching said nephew- now Firelord- to _brew tea._

He remembers the first attempt as if it were yesterday. ‘Bracing’ had been the generous description of a loving uncle. Serving in the tea shop had not done much to improve his skills.

Nevertheless, Iroh firmly believes that the ability to brew a _perfect_ cup to be of the utmost importance. Therein lies the key to becoming the leader he knows the young bender can be. He has therefore taken it upon himself to teach his nephew the art of brewing.

An impossible task, maybe.

But Iroh is a man of faith, and Zuko has never been one to back down from a challenge- he _did_ find the Avatar, after all.

_Choose your tea leaves carefully. It is the very foundation_ _on which rests your drink. Withered too fast, the tea becomes harsh and bitter. Too slow- the stewing diminishes the quality._

The second attempt, two weeks after the coronation, causes Iroh to shudder visibly and Zuko glowers. He storms off to his study, muttering about ‘hot leaf juice’ and ‘dealing with incompetent ministers’.

_Ginseng soothes the mind and the body. Jasmine boosts your health and gives you strength._

He doesn’t even drink the third attempt; at the sight of the thick, black sludge at the bottom of the pot, Zuko sends it flying across the kitchen and they both hear the delicate porcelain smash against the wall.

"That was my third favorite set."

At the door, Zuko stiffens. "Sorry, uncle. I’ll buy you a new one." With a tense bow, he disappears through the doors.

Iroh doesn’t miss the roar of frustration that echoes down the hall.

_Infused too shortly, it lacks flavour and potency. Too long, the bitterness infiltrates the taste buds, spoils the pleasure and effect._

Subsequent attempts all end in various degrees of failure, and Iroh sees the mounting frustration in his nephew’s tense shoulders over the last couple of months. War has had a negative impact on the Fire Nation’s economy, and the colonies are an inevitable topic of discussion at each council meeting. Zuko’s buried in paperwork and endless meetings, and it’s starting to show in the pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes.

"It’s _tea_ ," he grits out in frustration. "It shouldn’t be _this hard._ "

He closes his eyes and breath. In and out, in and out.

"I can do it." He’s talking about the tea, Iroh knows, but it’s also about _more_.

The determination in his face is oddly familiar, and Iroh believes him.

_Water at the right temperature, leaves plucked and dried just so, carefully monitored infusion time and a generous helping of patience: those are the ingredients to the perfect cup of tea._

The final attempt- Iroh has lost the exact count, but it must be around the thirty-sixth or thirty-seventh- takes place in Zuko’s study. He watches his nephew carefully boil the water in the pot with his palms, and drops the leaves. The expression of utmost concentration on the young man’s face brings a smile to his face, one he quickly dissimulates under a mask of impassiveness. Zuko perks up after a moment and pours golden liquid into a cup, before handing it to his uncle with care.

Iroh takes a sip under Zuko’s wary eye- and beams. 

His happiness is only rivaled by the pride etched in his nephew’s fine features.

_Never give up without a fight._

"You brew, nephew, like you bend and rule. And live."


	2. Feels like the first time (very first time)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn’t remember the moment she came to realize water was everywhere. It has always been there. She remembers, however, the first time she bloodbends.   
> One-shot, Hama-centric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Your stories will include a character/characters experiencing something for the first time (eg. learning a new skill, traveling to a new place, starting a new job, etc.), and should highlight how their lives will change if they accomplish this thing or how their life is now different from before they started this new thing.
> 
> Bonus prompts: yellow, grass, Feels like the First Time (by Foreigner)

She doesn’t remember the moment she came to realize water was _everywhere_. She just knows that suddenly, she could feel it in the moisture in the air, in the plants around her, in the sweat on her brow, in every single cell of her body.

She’s always been a talented waterbender, the most gifted one in the South. It comes easily to her- the forms, the mastery of her element. She loves the power it gives her.

So yes, she can’t quite remember _not_ sensing water _._ It has _always_ been there. It was natural, it was obvious. 

It was all hers, at her beck and call.

She remembers, however, the first time she _bloodbends_. 

She spots the elephant rat urinate on the floor of her cell and she _knows_ , she knows that all living things are just sacks of water, waiting to be used. Waiting to be mastered by the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe. 

The full moon calls to her, spilling light into her cell and strength surges through her limbs. The spirits, it seems, have given her their blessing. Because her power is a gift, one she intends to use.

After all, it’s only fair. Firebenders have never hesitated to show her the extent of _their_ power. It’s only right, she thinks, to return the favour.

She won’t be their prisoner anymore.

So she raises her arms and bends her fingers into claws, and _pulls_. She watches, enraptured, as the elephant rat stiffens, leans on its hindquarters, and turns. She feels its blood quiver and thrum under her fingertips. She feels its _fear_ seep through its veins.

Of course she remembers it, the pure exhilaration of having complete control. It’s not something one forgets.

She thinks maybe the second time will feel different, but it doesn’t.

Months pass, she practices and she expects the feeling to fade. It never does. It always feels like the first time.

_Feels like the first time. And it feels like the very first time._

She knows it’s only a matter of time before she’s _ready_. Elephant rats are mere distractions, tools to help her hone her skill. 

Her real enemy is the Fire Nation. She hasn’t lost sight of that.

Another full moon comes, its glow filling her with intoxicating energy. She craves it, the feeling of dominance, the pure enforcement of will. So when a prison guard passes her cell, she shoots out an arm and flexes her fingers.

Total control.

She expects it to feel different with a man, but it doesn’t. It feels... like the first time.

_Like it never did before._

His eyes are wide with terror, his skin is ashen, and he reeks of sweat. His mouth opens to speak - or scream - but she has no time for that. With a flick of her wrist, she slams his mouth shut. His arm unnaturally reaches for the key ring hanging from his belt loop and she smiles.

It’s only right that she should be freed by her keepers.

She forces him to lead the way, listening to his ineffective whimpers. Once they’re out in the open, she releases just a fraction of her hold. The prison guard crumples to the ground, panting, and she hears him beg and beg and _beg_.

She lifts her face to the moon, and breathes in the smell of lush green grass beneath her feet, of the cool night air.Of freedom.

With one hand controlling the guard, she raises the other and bends water out of the grassand out of the air into a circle around her head. She watches as the grass turns yellow, then brown, before shriveling up and crunching beneath her feet. It’s fitting, she notes, that freedom smells like water. 

She relishes her power, but no one can know about it. Not yet.

With a last look at the guard (« _Please_ ,» he begs) she briskly twists her fingers. The water turns into a multitude of tiny icy blades, that sink simultaneously into the body with a dull _thunk_.

She turns away without a parting look at the body, and walks off into the night.

She’s free.

\-----

When she stumbles, many years later, across a group of children - including an enthusiastic, resourceful, _Southern_ waterbender - Hama smiles.

_I’ve waited a lifetime._

She was starting to worry, after all, about what would happen to her legacy once she was gone. She isn’t as young as she used to be.

_Now that I’ve found you, together we’ll make history._

She brings her to the woods at nightfall, under a full moon. The familiar feeling of unbridled power surges through her.

_Feels like the first time. And it feels like the very first time._

She turns to the young girl, who listens to her, blue eyes wide. She’s missed seeing blue eyes. They remind her of home. It’s time to pass on her legacy.

_Open up the door._

"What I’m about to show you," she tells her, "I discovered in that wretched, Fire Nation prison."

She has no doubt that the young waterbender- Katara- won’t forget the first time she bloodbends, either.


	3. History, Let Us Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firelord Zuko and young Iroh talk about fathers, family and expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: (dialogue) ‘say that again'

Izumi falls in love and marries a smart, handsome Fire Nation nobleman, who turns out to be an abusive asshat once _baijiu_ hits his system. It takes a while, though, for the pattern to become obvious.

Five years and two children later, she kicks him out of the palace and their lives. After all, the Crown Princess doesn't need a shitshow for a husband. She has her children and nation to think about, and her decision garners the full support of the ones closest to her.

Especially her father. He never did like the smarmy bastard.

It's been two years now since his daughter has started single-parenting, and Zuko thinks she's doing a truly marvelous job (he could be biased). 

It doesn't mean it's _easy_. He notices the hard lines around her eyes when her wedding anniversary approaches, and the short bursts of temper following the reception of a particularly scathing letter from her former husband.

Today seems like one of those rough days, if young Iroh Is to be believed.

"Grandpa," he asks, taking a sip from his cup. His eyebrows are pulled together in an expression of deep thought. It's adorable on a seven-year-old. "Can I ask you something?"

Etiquette lessons- including the proper manner to address one's elders- are a socially acceptable, not-so-subtly disguised form of torture required of Fire Nation royalty, and generally extended to its nobility as a whole. Iroh and Mizuki, however, have refused to call the Firelord anything other than 'Grandpa', despite their teacher's most fervent efforts. Zuko has come to accept it (he _likes_ it).

"It's 'may I'," he absently corrects his grandson, "and, of course."

He tosses bread crumbs towards the pond and leans back against the tree to watch the family of turtleducks waddle in their direction. (He knows the palace's every nook and cranny, but this spot remains his favourite, even decades later.) 

Once a day, he takes an hour to have tea with his grandchildren - his duties can wait for a while. Glancing at Iroh, huddled against his side, he smiles and brings his cup to his lips.

"What's a son of a wolf-bitch ?"

Zuko doesn't answer straight away - he's too busy choking on Oolong.

"Grandpa?" Iroh's gold eyes are wide with alarm.

"Say that again? Wait- _No_ , don't! _Please_ don’t."

"Why not? Mom did, when she was reading that letter this morning."

Zuko clears his throat. "It's, ah... not a very nice thing for a young prince to say. Your mother shouldn't have used those words in your presence."

The dark-haired boy reddens and lowers his head. "She didn't know I was there."

Intrigued, Zuko raises an eyebrow. "A young prince shouldn't be eavesdropping either." His lips twitch in amusement. "Or should know better than to admit it to the Firelord."

"I wasn't eavesdr-" Iroh hesitates, "- listening! Mom gets really _loud_ when she's angry!" He pulls his legs to his chest and drops his chin on his knees. The blush spreads to the tips of his ears. It's more than just embarrassment now- Zuko spots tell-tale signs of hurt and distress. "She was talking about father,  wasn't she?" It's not a question.

Understanding blooms. "She probably was."

As Firelord, Zuko has had his fair share of issues to resolve after the war. A crumbling economy, food shortage, tax evasion, civil unrest- you name it, he's probably faced it. When it comes to family, however, it's a whole other Agni Kai.

It's not that he lacks experience in dealing with familial conflicts. One learns things from having a demanding grandfather, a power-crazed father, a mentally unstable sister, an absent mother and an uncle that thinks you're ready when really, you're _not_. Not yet.

He's always felt like he wasn't _enough_ , and feelings of inadequacy don't just fade, no matter how much paperwork you try to bury them under. Self-blame doesn't disappear with the number of peace treaties signed.

"Iroh," he calls gently, placing a hand on his grandson's shoulder. He catches the young boy wiping the corner of his eye with his wrist. "Whatever's going on between your mother and father has nothing to do with you. Or your sister."

It's been two years now, but he remembers it like it was yesterday. Holding his daughter close, brushing his lips against her temple as she rubbed her red-rimmed eyes. _"Sometimes, sweetheart, it's worse to have a bad father around than to not have a father around at all._ "

Iroh tries- and fails- to hide a sniff. He nods.

"Mom said he did some...bad things." The words come out as whispers. "I don't miss him. Not really. He never loved us like mom or you do. Or like you love mom." 

And Zuko _does_. His daughter is the best and brightest thing that's ever happened to him in the tragicomedy that is his life. He's far from the perfect father, he knows that, but he's tried- is _still_ trying- so hard.

Iroh isn't finished. "But he's my father. What if-," his lower lip trembles, "what if I end up like him?"

Zuko's heart stutters. For a second, he's thirteen again, and the memory of his mostly forgotten scar burns.

Iroh the First would have found some soothing proverb to aptly describe the situation, but Zuko has never been very good at those. He opts for the honest truth, instead.

"You won't," he tells his grandson fiercely, tugging him close. "You may be his son, but you're _not_ him. It's a lesson I took a very long time to learn, but you're smarter than I ever was at your age. You'll pick it up soon enough."

He cups his grandson's face in his palms. "You'll grow up to be a fine, responsible young man, Prince Iroh. I have no doubt."

Iroh glances up and gives him a watery, but genuine, smile. "Thanks, Grandpa."

Laughter rings out as Mizuki rushes towards them, ponytail trailing behind. "Grandpa! I got a new dress for the Dragon Festival! You have to see it."

Her mother appears behind her, looking frazzled but satisfied. As soon as she spots her son's red nose and bloodshot eyes, however, she freezes. Stricken, she glances at Zuko, who nods with a grimace.

Izumi lowers herself next to her son. "Come here, turtleduck," she murmurs. "Let's go for a walk, okay? Let's talk for a while."

She takes his hand and hoists him up. Shooting her father a grateful smile, she guides Iroh indoors, the both of them talking in low voices.

"Is Iroh okay?" Mizuki looks at her brother's retreating form, worry etched in her pretty features.

Zuko, not for the first time, feels a twinge of guilt for the relief that spreads through him at the display of sibling concern.

"It's very nice of you to care about your brother, Mizuki. He's going to be fine. Now, tell me about that dress of yours." 

"It’s so pretty, Grandpa!"

A short laugh escapes him as she spins around to face him, amber eyes sparkling with excitement. "You're in luck, I have no meetings planned for this afternoon. Sit, young lady. Treat your old grandfather with tales of fancy clothes and festivals."


	4. Dark Side of the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara thinks something’s wrong with her, and heads to the Spirit Oasis for a healing session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few years post-ATLA (Katara is 26, to be exact). The Gaang has settled down. Ume is Zuko’s wife, of my own creation. Kou Ni is my take on Corneille, a French playwright  
> It's actually what happened right before chapter "28." of Time Heals Wounds, my multi-chaptered ZK fic. Reading this might make that chapter a little clearer.

**Dark Side of the Moon**

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

_Breathe in._

Katara shuts her eyes. She raises her hands into the air and brings the water from the Spirit Oasis closer to her until it sits directly above her heart. Her brow furrows, focusing on healing the darkness that lies beneath her chest.

Nothing.

Undeterred, she lifts the water higher so it surrounds her head like a halo. In the quiet of the Oasis, she hears only her breath and that of her friend standing a little further away, interspersed with the occasional chatter of teeth.

Still nothing.

She drops her hands in frustration. The water falls onto her shoulders, but Katara pays it no mind. 

"It’s not working." Her voice cracks.

Zuko shivers and pulls the collar of his blue parka higher. He’s elected to stand guard in the cold just outside the oasis, a bridge away from its warm atmosphere and lush greenery. 

“Maybe it’s not working,” his reply is soft and tentative, but it rings out clearly in the quiet of the oasis, “because there’s nothing that needs healing.”

Katara leans back and shifts to face Zuko. "Maybe I’d be able to concentrate more if your teeth weren’t clicking together so much!" She turns back to the Spirit Oasis and adds quietly, "and if you weren’t so useless." 

Guilt at her harsh words wells up inside her immediately. After all, Zuko has no reason to be here apart from the fact that _she_ asked _him_ to come with her. But, because of her anger and disappointment, and the fact that Zuko is here with her, she can’t stop these feelings from overtaking her. Zuko always seems to bring out this side of her, and she hates it.

But it’s actually part of the reason why she invited him to com to the North Pole with her, in the first place, too.

Nonetheless, Katara knows there’s no excuse for yelling at Zuko. She shakes her head, appalled at her behavior. "I’m sorry. That wasn’t...that wasn’t very nice."

Zuko snorts. "That’s like saying this frigid hellhole is just a little _chilly_."

"You didn’t complain about the cold way back when you were running around after Aang." Katara raises an eyebrow and smirks. "What? Did chasing your honor fuel your inner fire?"

He scowls, and brings his gloved hands to his face, blowing warm air on them. "More than this ridiculous healing mission you’re fixating on, anyway. Because there’s absolutely _nothing_ _wrong_ with you or your bending."

"That’s just it, Zuko! There is!" She bites her lip. "I’ve always had this...ugly part of me. A part that’s jealous and petty. That’s spiteful and angry. It just simmers there, beneath the surface- it’s under control most of the time, but sometimes it rears up and it’s..." Katara pauses, searching for the best word to describe her feelings, " _horrible_."

Zuko’s eyes glow at her in the moonlit cove. "Katara, that’s normal-" 

"No, it isn’t _normal._ " Katara clenches her fists. The water in the Spirit Oasis swells in time with her frustrations. "All those years ago, at the Western Air Temple, I wanted to hurt you. I thought you deserved to be punished. I actually _enjoyed_ bloodbending that Southern Raider, just for a moment. And there was a second when I genuinely wanted to _kill_ Yon Rha, too." She swallows and looks down at the ground by her feet. "Those feelings were frightening. I thought after...that, I had let go of that dark part of myself."

She lets out a breath, and absentmindedly bends a sliver of Spirit water around. "But it’s still there. Sometimes it’s this burning jealousy, like when Aang insists on impressing those Air Acolytes. I mean, we’re married! I’m not supposed to feel like this anymore. Or when you asked Aang to...put a stop to you." Her eyes flicker in his direction to find him staring at her, "You know, if you ever started acting like your father...He was distraught. And what did I do? I just agreed with you!"

Her eyes start to water.

"Katara." His voice falters at the last syllable.

With one last careful look at their surroundings, to make sure it’s safe, Zuko crosses the bridge and takes a seat beside her. He lets out a small contented sigh when the warmer air of the cove hits his skin.

He nudges her with his shoulder. "Look, I’m sorry for putting you in that position. Thing is, I know you’d never hurt me if you could help it." She mumbles a half-hearted protest in jest, and his lips quirk in a smile. "But I also trust you to make the right decision for the greater good when the time comes- whether it’s slapping the daylights out of me or killing me." He pauses and rubs the back of his head. "I’d prefer the first option if possible, of course."

She sniffles and chokes out a chuckle. "You make that choice so hard..."

Zuko doesn’t say anything for a moment, then breaks the silence. "Can I ask you a question?"

She nods against his shoulder, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"Why me? Why didn’t you come with Aang? Don’t you trust your husband with this?"

Katara has been wondering when this particular question would pop up. She mulls over her answer. "It’s not a matter of trust. He just... he wouldn’t understand." It’s the truth. The others see her a certain way- the mothering nurturer, the patient and understanding wife, the responsible sister, the reliable friend- they don’t know this particular side of her. Maybe they’ve glimpsed it, Sokka most certainly has, but not to its fullest extent. Not in all its loathsome details. "None of them would."

Zuko, on the other hand, has seen that side in all its ugly glory. And more importantly, he _gets_ it. He gets her.

A few minutes pass before one of them speaks again. It’s Zuko who breaks the silence. "If we’re completely honest with ourselves, everyone has a dark side to their personalities."

Katara tilts her head to look at him. "Is that an Uncle Iroh quote?" Zuko does have occasional moments of startling insight, but that can’t be from him. It’s too polished, too philosophical.

A genuine laugh escapes the firebender. "Strangely, no." His expression sobers before he continues. "It’s actually from a play entitled ‘ _The Dragon Warrior_.’" His eyes take on a glazed, distracted look. "Forbidden love, Kou Ni-lian dilemmas... a much better play than ‘ _Love Amongst the Dragons_ ’, if you ask me."

Katara blinks. "A what dilemma?" The direction this conversation is taking is a welcome distraction from the deep-rooted anger she’s now used to projecting onto herself.

Zuko flushes under his parka. "Kou Ni-lian dilemma- when a protagonist has to choose between two values of identical importance. Say, love and honor, for example."

"Huh." Katara feels a smile grow on her face. _Figures_. "Is this how you wooed Ume?" She pokes his shoulder playfully. "With adorably nerdy literary knowledge?"

Somehow, he manages to turn even redder. "Shut up." He huffs. "The _point_ I was making, Katara, is that you’re fine the way you are. Life isn’t sunshine and rainbows all the time. You’re not perfect, and that’s okay. No one is, for Agni’s sake. You’ve got a little darkness in you- but you’ve got it completely under control. If people can’t accept that, it’s their problem, not yours."

For years, she’s hidden that part of her from her closest friends and family, scared of judgment- of rejection. But Zuko’s words, said with such certainty and conviction, bowl her over. Katara feels her throat start to close up. She blinks, trying to hold back her tears. She will _not_ cry all over Zuko. _Oh Spirits. This is just humiliating now._

He doesn’t notice _._ "Now you just have to accept yourself."

_Thank Tui._ She nods vigorously, surreptitiously wiping the corner of her eyes with her mittens. "Thanks, Zuko." She gives him a watery smile. "That little speech isn’t half bad."

Zuko shrugs. "It’s easy when it’s the truth. You don’t have to like that part. You just have to acknowledge it’s there, and live with it." He removes the scarf from around his neck and places it on her shoulders instead. Looping it gently around her neck once, he hands her one end of the scarf. He’s looking at her with so much compassion and understanding that Katara feels herself flush. There’s no point in hiding her tears anymore.

She grabs the end from him and presses her wet eyes against the thick wool. A small sob escapes before she can hold it in. She senses Zuko’s hesitation at the current situation- crying women are probably not part of the Firelord’s daily routine. He settles on awkwardly rubbing her back and Katara finds the action oddly soothing. They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, as Katara tries to compose herself.

Once her sniffles subside, Zuko rises to his feet. He holds out his hand to her with a soft smile. "Come on. If you’re ready, let’s get you back home."

Katara grabs his arm and hoists herself up. Threading her arm through his, they cross the bridge together. Her healing might not have worked, but she feels lighter, somehow. She feels...whole, for the first time in a long time. She glances at the dark-haired man next to her. It occurs to her that Zuko has lived with lightness and darkness warring inside of him for most of his life. Having been fueled by rage for so long, he _literally_ lost his bending temporarily when he found some form of inner peace. _And well, look how he turned out_. She buries the lower half of her face in his scarf to hide her tiny smile.

She thinks of her qualities- the fierce protectiveness, the urge to help those in need- and realizes it’s some form of anger that drive those intense beliefs. The two sides she’s so intent on opposing share a common goal. They make her who she is. _I can do this. I can accept myself._ She closes her eyes and feels it again, that newfound lightness. _It’ll take some work, but I think I’ve already started._

Reaching the frozen expanse just beyond the bridge, Zuko shivers again. "How do you _deal_ with this cold?" He whines as they step out of the warm bubble of the Spirit Oasis.

She looks up at her friend’s anguished expression and grins. "You get used to it."

"I’m a firebender." He replies primly. "I’ll never get used to it."

"Pity." Katara pats his parka. "You look good in blue."

Zuko pulls a face, but says nothing, opting instead to reply with a snort. Small tendrils of steam escape his nostrils and mouth.

"Sorry." She catches his eye and tries to put as much gratitude in her gaze as possible. _Thank you for accepting me._ "It’s my dark side."


	5. I Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Water Tribe girl seems to have lost something dear to her, and June, head of security at Blue Moon Mart, watches the search unfold behind her computer screen. Modern AU. ZK, Sukka

**I Spy**

June returns from her fifteen-minute break with a pack of fireflakes and an extra-large cup of tea. She slumps onto her chair and drops her boot-clad feet on her desk with a thud, crossing them at the ankles. As head of security at Blue Moon Mart, a supermarket located in Little Southern Water Tribe, she thinks she’s overpayed for someone who spends her time drinking tea and staring a computer screen. 

She’s never been one to complain, though. No, _sir_.

She stretches in her chair, arching her back and raising her arms above her head, before squirming in her seat to find the most comfortable position. She grabs the pack of fireflakes and turns her attention to the giant screen in front of her. Nine different camera angles flicker back at her. 

Taking a sip from her cup, she settles her gaze on Camera 1. The entrance. A dark-haired teen walks in, clad in a maroon shirt and black pants. The picture is grainy, but June knows he has a scar on the left side of his face. She recognizes the young tea server from that little shop in Ba Sing Se Commercial Center. What’s the name again? Ah, right, the Jasmine Dragon- ‘freshly brewed tea and divine dumplings’. The owner is a strange, kooky old man, but nice enough. The tea and dumplings, though- _heavenly_. 

The boy shoves his hands in his pocket and looks around. She’s seen him around before, both at the tea shop and at Blue Moon Mart; there’s something about him. June can’t place it, but previous years of experience as a bounty hunter have taught her to study body language- and this boy here is no tea server. He stands too straight, he walks too stealthily. He exudes something almost... _royal,_ she thinks. 

But that, of course, is ridiculous. No royalty will stoop to serving tea.

She can’t blame Jin- a teenage girl that works here part-time- for the small crush she has on the boy. He _is_ good-looking, despite the scar. June squints. Maybe just a little _too_ pouty.

Interest now piqued, she tracks his movements, and switches over to Camera 3. The breakfast aisle. Tea, coffee and cereals abound. She watches him as he suddenly pauses, staring at the ground. He crouches and picks something up. It glints under the neon lights. June lets out a dramatic gasp, her lips spreading into a gleeful smile. Is he _stealing_ something? The former teenage rebel in her relishes this possible demonstration of illegal activity. _However,_ she’s head of security, so she _should_ probably do something about it. She zooms in. 

Oh. _Oh._ No, that definitely does _not_ belong to the supermarket.

The object in question vanishes in his fist and into his pockets. At that very moment, a flurry of movement over on Camera 1 catches June’s attention. A pretty dark-skinned brunette storms in, gesticulating wildly to a shorter girl in a green dress beside her. Three other teens stumble in behind them: a tall boy with a wolf-tail bearing a striking resemblance to the first girl, a bald teen decorated with blue arrow tattoos, and a third beautiful young lady with more poise than her four comrades combined.

Ah, it’s the Gang. Regulars. Nice bunch of kids, if a little rambunctious. And with an uncanny ability to attract trouble wherever they go. Oh, _hell_ , this is going to be fun. She grabs a handful of fireflakes and stuffs them in her mouth.

The girl in green is pointing at her eyes, causing her interlocutor to pause and shrug in a way that June would describe, through her pixelized screen, as ‘sheepish’. With what June swears is a smirk, the former flounces off and climbs in one of the exposed armchairs in the furniture section. She lets out a big yawn, then rests her chin on her palm and looks in her friends’ direction. Oh, tiny Green Sassmaster. June _likes_ that one.

Undeterred, the brunette spins to face her companions. With her hands on her hips, she reminds June strikingly of a drill sergeant. Her subsequent arm movements- she’s gesturing to the different aisles, seemingly attributing them to each of her friends- are doing nothing to soften the image.

Are they actually _saluting_ her? Spirits!

Blue Arrows whizzes off to the household items, scanning the ground left and right. Poise Incarnate strides towards the clothing section, occasionally crouching low, peering at the floor. Wolf-Tail whips out a magnifying glass and heads to the fresh foods corner. 

It seems Sergeant Princess has lost something, and has recruited her friends in search of said object. Wait a _minute_ -

June’s eyes hone in on Prince Pouty, who’s hovering on the edge of Camera 3. He takes a step towards the brunette. She doesn’t notice him, too busy staring daggers at Wolf-Tail. With what looks like an aggravated cry, she stomps over to Wolf-Tail and smacks him across the back of the head, causing him to drop the magnifying class and clutch his head in pain. Prince Pouty seems to have frozen in place as he takes in the scene. All it takes is for Sergeant Princess to cross her arms under her chest and spin on her heels towards the cosmetics counter for him to snap out of his daze. He slowly edges towards the entrance.

But he doesn’t leave the premises completely. Camera 9 shows him hovering outside the main door, looking on at whatever’s happening on the inside, before taking a seat on the edge of a small fountain in the supermarket’s courtyard. He takes out the object from his pocket and stares at it.

It _may_ seem random, but there’s a bet between her and Jet, one of the younger store clerks, about whether Prince Pouty and Sergeant Princess are dating or not. June has seen them interact before- not much, and nothing _explicit,_ but there’s always an undercurrent. In fact, the whole bet started one hot July afternoon, after witnessing a particularly messy scene involving sea prunes and spicy chick-turkey kebabs. June had to forcibly separate the both of them before a kebab stick ended up in someone’s eye, but the looks exchanged weren’t venomous. _Ooh_ , no. Jet, however, is totally in denial- he thinks he has a shot with the pretty girl. Tsk. Delusional boy. June’s always had an instinct for this sort of stuff.

Sergeant Princess is now done ransacking the cosmetics counter, and has moved on to baked goods. Is that thing really that valuable? June takes a sip of her now lukewarm tea and grimaces at the taste.

Poise Incarnate ends up in the vegetable aisle with Wolf-Tail, and they seem to have set aside the search in favor of searching each other’s mouths. Blue Arrows has stumbled upon the dairy section and is peering curiously at authentic pots of Water Tribe yogurt. June thinks he’s lost sight of the actual purpose of their little raid. Tiny Green Sassmaster seems to be shouting directions with a most gleeful expression.

Sergeant Princess pops up on Camera 2, then Camera 1. She’s obviously frustrated whenshe steps out the doors. A breeze ruffles her long tresses as she heads towards the large oak tree that shades the supermarket’s courtyard. Her back pressed against the trunk, she buries her face in her hands, elbows pressing against her stomach. June doesn’t see the shadow approaching until Prince Pouty appears behind her. He’s dangling the object June is now sure has some sort of extreme sentimental value over her shoulder, right next to her neck. 

Sergeant Princess startles at the sudden movement at her back. Her eyes catch sight of the item and her mouth drops. She snatches it out of the boy’s hands before twisting around to shove him roughly against the trunk. She reaches into her satchel and pulls out a bottle of water, the contents of which she promptly squirts all over the boy’s face and torso. 

June barely manages to swallow her mouthful of tea as she chokes with laughter. 

Prince Pouty stands there, arms spread wide, trying in vain to shake off the excess water. Sergeant Princess stays rooted in her spot. Suddenly, to June’s surprise, she holds out the object with one hand and lifts her hair with the other. June spots the way the young man’s eyebrows raise and his lips curve into a smile. He takes the item from her and clasps it around her neck. For a moment, neither of them move. Then something shifts.

Sergeant Princess makes the first move, cupping his face and _sinking_ into his body. She doesn’t seem to care that he’s drenched in water- that _she_ poured, by the way- or that she’s getting progressively soaked. They’re wrapped in each other, supported by the old oak tree. Foreheads, lips, hands, legs- everything touches. Everything is gentle, a stark contrast to the girl’s earlier actions.

The scene is strangely intimate, and June suddenly feels like she’s intruding.

Which- she reflects wryly- technically, she _is._

Sergeant Princess steps away from the boy’s embrace after a final peck on the lips. Shooting a last glance backwards, she heads towards the store’s entrance with a grin on her face, a new spring in her step and a pendant hanging from her neck. Prince Pouty leans back against the tree with a slightly dazed look and a dopey smile.

June snorts and rolls her eyes. _Teenagers_.

Poor Jin is going to be heartbroken at the recent developments.

On the bright side, Jet totally owes her ten bucks now.


	6. And So The World Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two girls grow up on opposite sides of the world, and come to terms with their destiny in a world without hope. AU where there's no Aang :(

**And So The World Burns**

 

A young girl decked in a blue parka struggles to lift a sliver of water from an ice hole. Sweat forms on her brow and her arms ache but she perseveres with a type of determination one only finds in children. 

Her shoulders slump in defeat when the water unceremoniously plops back to where it came from for the twenty-third time, and she trudges back towards her family’s igloo in silence.

* * *

A young girl dressed in formal red robes performs in front of an expectant public. Her father and grandfather watch as fire erupts from her palms, each move measured and controlled. Her chest swells with pride when she sees them smile. Her older brother watches her from afar, fists clenched, and she sees- she _feels_ \- the admiration and envy that radiates from him. Poor Zuzu. Looks like she got all the talent in the family.

And yet- her smirk falters- Mother still somehow loves him more.

She gives herself a mental shake.

It doesn’t matter.

* * *

 

The dark-skinned brunette watches her brother closely. His gaze follows the tribe’s men as they leave for war, torn between sadness and longing. He wants to be part of it. He’s a man too, you know.

But he _can’t_. 

She’s lost her mother. She’s losing her father. She can’t lose him, as well.

He’s here for now, though. So she says nothing, and helps her grandmother pack the seal jerky in preparation for another cold, long winter.

* * *

The pale brunette skips down the palace corridors until she finds herself in front of her brother’s room. She hears thrashing behind the thick wooden doors, and something that sounds delicate crashes against the wall. She doesn’t bother knocking.

She finds him stuffing clothing into a bag. Burn marks cover large portions of the walls. A large white bandage is wrapped around half his face, a yellowish stain already starting to seep through. He’s going to need to change that- maybe once he’s on that ship.

"You shouldn’t have done that," she tells him matter-of-factly. "You know Father hates it when we talk out of turn."

He doesn’t answer, but his shoulders stiffen.

"You always were a bleeding heart. Personally, I think Father’s right. But you were next in line for the crown. You could have changed things, with time."

It’s subtle, but it’s there. The slight widening of his eyes. He pales, looking deathly against the whiteness of the bandage.

"But now he’s banished you. Sent you off on some wild goose chase, to get your _honor_ back. You _do_ know there’s no such thing as the Avatar, don’t you?"

She sees it in his eyes. _Azula always lies_. And it’s true- she does sometimes. But she isn’t lying now.

Why lie, when the truth can hurt so much more?

"Oh, Zuzu. You _never_ think things through."

She ducks away from the huge blast of fire barreling in her direction, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Her brother’s firebending has always been fueled by rage.

* * *

The waterbender gestures furiously at her brother. He’s _not_ putting this boating accident on her again!

A loud, sudden crack catches both their attention, and a large sphere emerges from the depths of the ocean. They both stare at it, dumbstruck, before she grabs her brother’s club and darts off towards the ice sphere. After minutes of incessant hits against the hard surface, a blue light erupts. 

As the light subsides, the siblings take a careful step towards the cracked sphere.

Peering inside, they find a huge, six-legged furry creature. A flying bison.

There hasn’t been a reported sighting of a flying bison since the Air Nomads genocide.

It seems to be alone.

* * *

The firebender leans against the balcony, looking over Capital City. It’s her home. Her country. Her people.

One day, she’ll be the one ruling them.

In the mean time, she’s working hard. She derives her power from cold calculation, from complete control- the way a true master does. Her fire burns blue.

She knows it isn’t enough, though. She attends every war council meeting with her father, she studies battle tactics. She learns the names and properties of every one of Mai’s silver weapons- more importantly, she learns to dodge them. She spars with Ty Lee to increase her speed and agility.

She needs to do _more._

Her knuckles turn white as she grips the balcony railing.

She’s going to be the best, most powerful Firelord the world has ever seen.

Better than her father ever was. Better than her banished brother could ever hope to be.

She’ll show them all.

* * *

Readjusting the gold crown that sits on her head, she walks along Capital City Prison’s chilly corridors. She passes rows of cells- Earth Nation, Water Tribe, Fire Nation rebels- the whole world, it seems, reunited in one place. It’s almost beautiful.

One cell in particular, catches her attention. Their newest prisoner. A young woman from the Southern Water Tribe, caught traveling with her brother. They were overheard trying to ignite a rebellion in one of the Earth Kingdom colonies.

The waterbender hears her approach, and scrambles to her feet, gripping the iron bars. She exudes hatred and defiance, and Azula almost admires her for it. She may just have found a new favorite prisoner.

The woman spits. Azula just laughs. "You want us to burn, waterbender, and maybe we will. But not before you drown in the greatness of the Fire Nation." She raises an eyebrow and smirks.

"Now. Bow before your Firelord."


	7. Something There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Zutara Month day 14: Beauty and the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s dedicated to my Zutara readers, who keep me motivated and inexplicably seem to enjoy my writing.  
> A little fluff is good for the soul.  
> The plot, of course, belongs entirely to Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. Not an ounce of originality here.

**Something There**

The sun beats down on Ember Island’s white sand, and beneath the sweltering heat, Katara watches Zuko out of the corner of her eye. He’s sitting by the small pond in the garden, tossing breadcrumbs at the turtleducks.

It’s an unnerving sight.

See, she doesn’t _get_ this boy. She doesn’t understand how someone who chases them halfway across the world, who threatens to turn her over to pirates, who _betrays_ them so quickly in a cave filled with crystals, could turn out to be so...sweet. It’s _weird_.

A branch cracks beneath her foot and she curses under her breath as Zuko’s head snaps up and his eyes find hers almost instantly. She spots a blush rise from beneath the collar of his loose shirt as he gets up, brushing his hands on his pants.

He clears his throat. "This place reminds me of home." 

Katara raises her eyebrow, and he turns even redder. If that’s even possible. It’s...endearing?

"The palace, I mean. There’s a pond with turtleducks there. My mother-" His mouth clamps shut. His fingers disappear beneath thick black locks as he brushes his hair away. "We used to feed them together."

Right. A palace. He’s a prince (or at least, he _was_ ). It’s easy to forget, when he acts like _this-_ hesitant _,_ unsure.

She finally registers his words. "Used to? What happened?"

He tosses another handful of breadcrumbs. "She disappeared." She catches the tinge of loss and bitterness in his voice, and she _understands_.

"It’s hard, missing her everyday, isn’t it?"

He looks at her, and the sun is nothing compared to the blazing gold of his irises. She swallows, and turns her gaze to the turtleducks.

Huh. There may be something in him she simply didn’t see before.

* * *

It’s not hard. It’s _unbearable_. But that’s something Zuko thinks he doesn’t need to say out loud. She knows- because she feels the same way too. He’s been a witness to that, after all.

It’s gotten him his first steps to being forgiven.

He holds out his palm. "Do you want to have a try?"

She bites her lip. "Really?" 

He nods.

Tentatively, she takes a few crumbs form his palm. Her fingers brush against his skin, calloused from years of sword fighting. Her touch is soft but firm, without the slightest hint of disgust or fury. Something clenches in Zuko’s chest, but he tells himself to ignore it.

She kneels down in the grass and extends her hand, palm up, just hovering above the water. Two baby turtleducks approach, under the wary, watchful eyes of the mother. After a second’s hesitation, they start pecking at the crumbs.

"They’re eating from my palm, Zuko!" she laughs, and turns to him, her smile blinding.

Those blue eyes of hers are wide with childlike delight and wonder, and he can’t tear his gaze away. She’s never looked at him that way before.

He never wants her to stop.

* * *

Three friends stare at the two teenagers from their spot on the balcony. Well, two of them stare- the third listens to the running commentary, a lazy smirk in place. She’s predicted this particular turn of events for a _long_ time.

"Who’d have thought?" Sokka exclaims in a loud whisper.

Toph grins. "Me."

Suki takes a sip from the cup of juice in her hand and sighs. "Who’d have known?"

"I did."

The young boy shakes his head, eyes fixed on his sister and his new friend. "Never thought they’d come together on their own like this."

Toph snorts. "Called it."

Suki leans her chin against her palm. "Hm, let’s give this a few days. There may be something there that wasn’t there before."

Toph rolls her milky green eyes and lies on her back, letting the sun warm her face. "Please, amateurs. It’s _always_ been there, if you knew where to look. If you’d bothered to _see_."

And they say _she’s_ the blind one.


End file.
